


Spilled Ink

by xiuchenlay



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Asshole Ex, Break Up, Eventual Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Break Up, Slow Burn, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, infidelity (not chanchen), sweetheart Chanyeol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-05-16 00:45:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19307212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xiuchenlay/pseuds/xiuchenlay
Summary: Suddenly boyfriendless, Jongdae tries to keep himself from falling apart. Chanyeol helps.





	Spilled Ink

 

Bad days, in life, are inevitable. For some, they occur rather often, blending together and stretching into something more like a bad week or month. For others, they’re rather sporadic, a small dot of ink spilled on a paper of pristine white, nearly insignificant in size when compared to the size of the paper but it captures eyes and forces all the available attention to the pitch black that juxtaposes the white.

 

For Jongdae, all the deities in the universe, both holy and unholy, sat down together at an extended and lavish dining room table to discuss how they could do everything in their power to royally fuck him over one average Friday morning on the cusp of the summer season.

 

That day begins like every other Bad DayTM . His phone somehow malfunctions and decides to not make his alarm go off, despite the fact that it works without a problem every other damn day of the week. The persistent meowing of his cat and light but rough, sandpapery licks are what pry him out of his deep slumber. He opens his eyes blearily, the world slowly coming more into focus with each slow, languid blink. There’s a purring ball of fluff on his chest, his hand coming out to thread through soft black fur.

 

“Morning,” He whispers to his cat, “Are you hungry? Is that why you woke me up, Cat? You want something to eat?”

 

Cat’s other parent is Jongdae’s wonderful roommate and best friend, Yixing, who had moved from China quite some time ago, carrying nothing but a small suitcase, his guitar and a tiny pet carrier. They met in university, through his other best friend’s boyfriend, Han, and became fast friends. Jongdae had been looking for a roommate so he could afford a newer piano and Yixing had been looking for a place to stay which allowed pets, so really, the arrangement was a no brainer. They fit so well with each other that neither of them had decided to move out even after they graduated.

 

Jongdae gets out of bed and pads past Yixing’s bedroom and into their small kitchen, Cat running along after him. He quickly scoops some food out of the container and puts it in his bowl, then refills his water bowl. Suddenly, he catches sight of the digital numbers on his stove and freezes, panic seizing his gut.

 

“Nonononono,” Jongdae breathes out. It dawns on him that he only has fifteen minutes to make it to work, and that’s _if_ he catches the next train. He’s never gotten dressed so quickly in his life, nearly face planting when his foot catches in his pants. He’s out the door in minutes with a brief ‘ _bye Yixing-ge!_ ’ to Yixing who is probably still asleep and sprints down the street.

 

The run to the subway is mostly uneventful, that is until someone decides to turn a corner without looking and Jongdae ends up on the floor, hot coffee spilled all over his clean white sweater and a blossoming bruise on his left ass cheek.

 

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” Jongdae says to the young man, who is thankfully free of coffee stains on his shirt. The man offers him a hand and pulls him up, “I _really_ need to make the next train. I’m sorry again.”

 

Then he’s off once again.

 

He misses the train by fifteen seconds, watching the doors close right in his face, his crestfallen expression mocking him from his reflection in the door windows. He could run but it would take the same amount of time as simply waiting for the next train so he dejectedly accepts the fact that won’t be on time either way.

 

He’s only fifteen minutes late and thankfully he gets away with a simple ‘try not to let it happen again’ from his boss.

 

The rest of the day passes in a blur, full of tiny little mishaps but nothing to really cry home about. He’s in the process of clocking out, having already said goodbye to his colleagues, when his phone vibrates in his pocket. He retrieves it to see his screen lit with a text from Yixing.

 

_ >>hey I’m sleeping at baek’s tonight so don’t wait up or anything _

 

Yixing sleeping over at his boyfriend of nine month’s house isn’t a very uncommon occurrence but he never fails to let Jongdae know about it: another reason why he’s the perfect roommate. Jongdae types his reply.

 

_sounds good! << _

_im going to Jun’s soon anyways << _

_but have fun! << _

 

_ >>you know I will ;) _

_ >>I’m sure you’ll have your own fun too ;)) _

 

_gross….spare me the details << _

_and who knows maybe I willᄏᄏㅋᄏ << _

 

He pockets his phone as he makes the short trek to the station. When he manages to grab a seat while waiting for the next train, he checks Yixing’s response.

 

>> _Baek says he wants pics or it didn’t happen_

 

Jongdae barks out a laugh, shaking his head to himself in fondness. Typical Baekhyun. He lifts his head as the telltale sound of the train arriving and stands as it comes to a stop. It’s rather uncrowded at this time; Jongdae’s later-than-normal hours always cause him to miss the rush of workers and students alike so he easily claims a seat.

 

_i guess it didn’t happen then! << _

 

And Jongdae knows Baekhyun stole Yixing’s phone when the next messages are filled with a mixture of sad and angry egg stickers instead of any actual words. He doesn’t deem him with a response, knowing that the best way to deal with Baekhyun is not to deal with him at all. The rest of his ride is spent in peace, the music playing in his ears drowning out the minimal chatter around him. Instead of getting off at his usual stop, he switches lines and gets off at one he frequents practically as much as his own, his boyfriend’s, Junmyeon.

 

Junmyeon and he have been dating for what will be 5 years in August. They met in Jongdae’s second year of university and Junmyeon was in his third at a typical party which started off with the latter asking him to dance and ended with him asking for his number. That evolved into weekly coffee dates and dinners and finally a full blown relationship.

 

Today, Jongdae feels off, has been feeling off and tired since he woke up. Visiting his boyfriend always makes him feel reenergized so he concluded at lunchtime that a visit was in order. He doesn’t bother texting, thinking that it would be a welcome surprise.

 

When he arrives at Junmyeon’s apartment, he keys in the code and steps inside. He can hear the television running, sounds of his typical sports channel filling the house. It brings a smile to his face and he goes to toe off his shoes before he stops short. By the door, next to the shoes Jongdae bought him for his birthday, are a pair of black peep-toe heels.

 

Junmyeon doesn’t have a sister and he highly doubts his mother would wear a pair of four inch heels with her weak ankles. A nervousness twists at his gut to the point that Jongdae feels nausea crawl up his throat. Trepidation envelops his entire being as he scrounges for a reason not to worry.

 

But really, why would a woman be in Junmyeon’s house at nearly 10:00pm?

 

The first step forward is the hardest, his mind screaming at to turn around, walk out the door and forget he ever saw anything. Yet the need to know is stronger, the need to confirm that his gnawing suspicion is nothing more than an insecurity. His heart pounds in his ears but his hearing is somehow on red alert, ready to catch any sound underneath the the rapid speaking sports commentators. The living room is empty but Jongdae can see the escalation of the encounter, can picture it in his vividly mind:

 

Junmyeon and the women sharing a bottle of wine as they cuddle on the couch _._

 

Junmyeon losing his shirt as he pressed her against the couch cushions.

 

The women’s pants, shirt, bra trailing down the hallway towards the bedroom, creating a sick path that Jongdae follows with an ache in his heart so heavy that he almost crouches down to see if he could breathe any better in that position. Light emanates from the Junmyeon’s bedroom, the door where he pushed her against as she unbuckled his belt and discarded it; he removed his pants and underwear and left them to pool on the threshold.

 

Jongdae’s breath are quiet now, nearly inaudible gasps, lungs feeling too tight, too constricted. He hesitates, stopping right at the line the light casts onto the floor as it’s obstructed by the frame of the door. The pulsing in his ears has gotten louder as his heart beats a rapid but heavy rhythm, every singular beat feeling like a punch to the chest. Yet, it does nothing to stop the indecent sounds from assaulting his ear drums, a searing brand into the very matter of his mind.

 

Turn around. Turn around. _Turn around._

 

He takes the last step forward.

 

The sight he’s met with is exactly what he expected and exactly what he feared.

 

He swallows passed the ball in his throat, passed the icy dread that stabs into his chest, has a vice like grip around his stomach and causes his hands him to shake and tremble.

 

He turns around. Walks right out of the apartment.

 

_I’m fine._

 

It takes him three times as long to make the short walk to the train station. Every few steps he feels like he can’t _breathe,_ like his lungs are clogged. He sits down on the edge of the sidewalk, head between his knees until every inhale and subsequent exhale feel less like he’s choking on air. His legs strain and shudder as he summons every ounce of willpower to stand up and keep walking instead of collapsing on the concrete. Then, the ordeal starts all over again.

 

_I’m fine._

 

At the station, it takes him a few tries to swipe his T-money pass, hands shaking so hard he keeps missing the scanner.

 

_I’m fine._

 

On his way from his station to his apartment, he decides it’s a good idea to stay on a bench for a few minutes. Like this, his head stops spinning so much. He vaguely acknowledges the buzz of his phone as it reverberates through his jeans and into his thigh. It cuts through the numbness for a moment, enough for him to pull some thoughts through the muddled maze that is his brain.

 

 _Yixing_. It’s probably Yixing checking up on him or Baekhyun sending him something dumb. Calling them. He could call them. That’s something he could do. They’d come get him. But…then he’d be interrupting.

 

 _At least someone should have their night go right,_ Jongdae thinks and dismisses the idea.

 

 _Minseok_ is the next name that comes to the forefront of his mind. Minseok, his best friend, the first person he calls in the case of anything going badly but also anything going well. Minseok would know what to say, would know what to do to keep Jongdae from crumbling right here on this park bench, the dead of night his only company. But Minseok’s in Beijing for Han’s cousin’s wedding, probably getting drunk or getting lucky or both, and Jongdae doesn’t want to be selfish enough to ruin that for him.

 

 _I’m fine_.

 

He’s fine. He’s going to go home and watch the crime drama that he’s two weeks behind on. He doesn’t feel too hungry but he could go for some ice cream. Maybe it’ll help fill the hole in his chest. There’s no harm.

 

The convenience store a block away from his apartment is the only one that carries his favourite flavour in this area. He tries to look somewhat alive when he greets the clerk, a tall handsome man whose uniform is way too tight on his biceps, because he’s _okay_.

 

“Good evening,” The man’s voice is deep, rough, but the grin he showcases is wide and the curve of his teeth is pretty.

 

Jongdae can’t bring himself to smile back nor really get anything else passed the lump in his throat.

 

He nods instead because that’s simple enough. That he can do because _he’s fine_.

 

The ice cream freezer is just ahead and Jongdae scans the shelves with a sting in the back of his eyes. It’s...It’s...not there. He looks again, again and again, opening the freezer and moving the tubs of ice cream around in hopes of finding it. The tips of his fingers begin to numb but it makes no difference because the rest of him feels numb too.

 

But _it’s not there._

 

And it needs to be, because if it isn’t then Jongdae will have to pick another flavour but he doesn’t want any other flavour, he wants, he _needs_ that one. Because settling for another kind feels a lot like disappointment and he’s already been disappointed enough today and _he can’t handle any more of this._

 

He can’t handle the festering ache in his chest possibly growing any larger or else it really might swallow him whole. But, reality never does like being ignored and it hits Jongdae so suddenly that every muscle in his body just stops moving, heart included.

 

The man who he loves with the entirety of his heart, his being, the one he thought felt the exact same way...doesn’t think Jongdae is _enough_. Because that’s what everything comes down to, because if Jongdae was enough, Junmyeon wouldn’t have…

 

he wouldn’t have…

 

 _he wouldn’t have been with_ **_her_ ** _._

 

_I’m really not fucking okay._

 

That’s the final crack in the 200m dam Jongdae has managed to build up between the moment he saw them and now, the weight of his distress building and chipping away at it until, it simply gives and finally bursts. It’s akin to a cold, _freezing_ flame sparking from deep in his chest and spreading outwards and he doesn’t even realize a sob tears itself from his throat and his legs finally give like they wanted to do, and have been wanting to do since the moment he discovered the nauseating sight.

 

It hurts, _it hurts_ , an ache so deep he’s gasping and he doesn’t think he can breathe, can barely think, because they’re done, they’re _done_ , it’s over and he loves him so, so much but he’s not enough and was he ever enough? Did he ever love him? Or was he a way to pass time?

 

Jongdae is sure he prefers that to Junmyeon having falling out of love with him because that means he’s disposable, forgettable, that he couldn’t keep him happy and _that thought hurts too much but it won’t stop replaying in his head and he thinks he can feel he’s shaking and he can’t see through the tears that flood his eyes and run down his face in hot tracks._

 

 _That fucker finally got me to cry_ , Jongdae suddenly thinks with so much bitterness he thinks he can taste it on his tongue. To anyone that knows Jongdae well, it comes to no surprise that he’s the only one dry-eyed at the end of an extremely sad move or almost anytime really. He’s simply not a crier, can count the amount of times he has in his entire life on both hands and still have some fingers to spare. Junmyeon had made a game out of it, showing Jongdae the saddest songs, movies, anything but he never got a single tear from him.

 

Until now, at least.

 

And now that they’ve started, they can’t seem to stop, as if to make up for all the tearless years, rolling down his jaw and falling the curve of his neck to collect in the neck of his t-shirt. They’re accompanied by choked, tremulous breaths and the most he can manage to do is curl into a ball, his knees to his chest and face buried into his legs, arms wrapped around his legs and squeezing like maybe he can keep himself from falling apart by doing so.

  
  


Chanyeol had seen the defeated look on the customer's face when he walked into the store. The customer was incredibly pretty, with kitten lips that curled up into a perpetual smile, but he was doing anything but smiling. It sent a pang of sympathy through Chanyeol’s chest; he could see how hard he was trying to keep it together.

 

He watched him head straight to the freezer where they kept the ice cream and released a silent chuckle because of how stereotypical the whole scene was. Then, he averted his eyes and started cleaning the area around his cash so he didn’t have to do it later. He used the damp cloth to wipe down the counter and then organized the display of chocolate bars that a child had messed with earlier in the day.

 

When he finishes up, he casually glances in the direction of the freezer and his eyes widen as he sees the freezer shut and the customer curled up onto the floor. Immediately he rushes out from behind the counter and to the man.

 

“Hey,” Chanyeol lightly taps a trembling shoulder and his heart breaks a little when he can hear barely stifled sobs from the little ball of despair the other has folded himself into, “Are you alright?”

 

Is he alright?

 

 _No_ , Jongdae thinks he’s really not alright and that reaffirmation just causes him to cry that much harder.

 

“No, please don’t cry more. I’m sorry,” Chanyeol apologizes in a panic, at a complete and utter loss at what to do. He prides himself on being good at comforting people, always willing to lend an ear and allow them to vent about whatever might be troubling them. He’s been told he gives great hugs. But everyone he’s ever consoled has been a friend or his family. When it comes to a complete stranger, he flounders.

 

Can it really be that different? He’s not sure the man can manage to get a word out, much less vent his problems to him. Chanyeol’s left with option number two: a hug.

 

“Can I…give you a hug?” Chanyeol tries tentatively, unsure on how he would react to being offered such a thing by a stranger.

 

A hug?

 

The question catches Jongdae off guard. The cashier doesn’t know him and he’s asking if he could _hug_ him? Why would he even care about him when his own _boyfriend_ clearly doesn’t? A damn stranger has shown more kindness to him in the past hour than _Junmyeon_ has by a long shot. The thought would have drawn a resentful laugh had Jongdae not been to busy focusing on breathing between sobs.

 

Bawling on the floor of a 24hr convenience store after catching his boyfriend of 4 years (almost 5 but will never actually be 5. Not after this.) fucking some woman is pretty much the definition of rock bottom. He seriously doesn’t think it could get any worse than this. So sue him for wanting to take any comfort he could possibly get.

 

He raises his head from it’s safe little nook, vision blurred by tears and eyes sensitive to the sudden light, to give a small nod. The next thing he knows, he’s being enveloped in a tentative embrace. The urge to cling is stronger than him and he breaks down for the nth time, face buried in the man’s shoulder and fingers holding onto his uniform. He’s not sure how long they sit there, Jongdae soaking the man’s shirt and the latter reassuringly rubbing his back. When he feels like the tears have finally exhausted themselves and _he_ has exhausted himself, only residual trembles and shaky breaths remaining in his body, he pulls away. He immediately wipes his face with his sleeve, eyes so achy that the press of fabric hurts.

 

“Are you...feeling better?” Comes the deep baritone of the cashier’s voice and Jongdae looks up to see earnest and concerned almond-shaped eyes watching him.

 

“Yes,” Jongdae’s voice is rough and raspy and he swallows to try and clear it, “A little...thank you.”

 

“That’s good. I’m glad,” he smiles a wide grin, showcasing the curve of nice teeth. Jongdae does his best to smile back and offers a half hearted quirk of his mouth.

 

“I’m sorry,” he says suddenly, shame suddenly filling him, “I didn’t mean to cause so much trouble. I should go.”

 

His head feels slightly clearer and he isn’t sure how long it was going to last. If he was going to make a fool of himself again, he would prefer it to be within the confines of his own apartment, with only Cat’s judging eyes on him. He makes to stand up but a hand on his shoulder stops him.

 

“No, no, it's fine. You really didn’t cause trouble,” Chanyeol assures vehemently and at the dubious raise of Jongdae’s eyebrow, the former adds, “I swear. I was only wiping the counter. Look… clearly you’re not having a great night,” cue a derisive snort, “and I’m just saying that if you need someone to talk to or someone to just listen, I’m here. I know it’s a weird offer and you don’t have to take it. I know I’m just a random stranger but I thought I should put it out there.”

 

Honestly, Jongdae just spent the last hour or so snotting into the guy’s shoulder, he’s pretty sure that they’ve skipped so many of the ‘get to know each other’ steps required in a relationship before you can get _that_ comfortable with each other, so what’s the harm in skipping a few more?

 

“That would be nice,” Jongdae answers shyly, hoping that the offer is genuine and not simply said because it was somehow expected.

 

“Really?” He lights up like Jongdae is doing him a favour instead of the other way around, “I’m Chanyeol by the way. I would have introduced myself sooner but you were kind of…yeah…”

 

“Kind of having five mental breakdowns at once?” Jongdae jests and chuckles at the conflicted expression on Chanyeol’s face, like he wants to agree with Jongdae but also doesn’t want to come off as rude, “I know you think so too. Don’t worry about hurting my feelings, it’s the truth...and I’m Jongdae.”

 

“Nice to meet you?” Chanyeol says unsurely. Maybe if the circumstances were better.

 

“I’ll say,” Jongdae’s laugh is wetter than he’d like and he buries his face in his hands. His voice is muffled but Chanyeol can clearly hear the way he struggles to keep things together, “I’m sorry. Fuck.”

 

Chanyeol gets an idea right then and there. A stupid, stupid idea. But an idea nonetheless. He stands up, “Jongdae how old are you?”

 

“Twenty-seven,” comes his reply and he hasn’t even noticed Chanyeol has left his side to jog to the alcohol section, grabbing a large bottle of wine and plastic cups. If he is about to serve wine to a customer, he at least needs to make sure he’s legal.

 

“Oh? We’re the same age,” Chanyeol says as he makes his way back and sits, crossing his legs beneath him, “When’s your birthday?”

 

“September 21st.”

 

“Damn, you’re older. I’m born in November,” Chanyeol opens the bag containing the plastic cups and twists open the wine bottle to pour the rose into them. Jongdae raises his head and then raises his brow at the sight of the wine.

 

“What? Wine cures all sadness,” Chanyeol offers him a cup.

 

“For the moment, sure. But then you wake up the next morning and the sadness is back with a vengeance on top of massive hangover,” Jongdae complains but grabs it from him anyways.

 

“But that is an issue for tomorrow,” Chanyeol holds out his cup to Jongdae, “Cheers.”

 

Jongdae clicks his cup against Chanyeol’s and proceeds to down half of it in a few gulps. The wine is alright. Not the best he has had but easily not the worst. Besides, he’s not really drinking it for the taste and more for the ability it has to numb the ache in his heart. He’s always been the token lightweight in his group of friends, a few glasses being all it takes to get him to that perfect state of drunkenness. On top of that, he hasn’t eaten anything besides a mediocre lunch the entire day. So, he’s not really surprised that, halfway through his second cup, a telltale weightlessness suffuses his limbs along with a rush in his head.

 

The two sit in an oddly comfortable silence. It’s clear that Chanyeol is waiting for Jongdae to speak up but he isn’t sure how to even _begin_ to talk about it. If he was to talk about it, if he was to say it out loud, he wouldn’t be able to take it back. But could he even take it back now? Would he be able to look at Junmyeon without seeing him draped over that woman? Would he be able to kiss him without thinking of how he kissed her? Touch him without being reminded that he’s not the only one who’s allowed to touch him like that?

 

He wouldn’t. He couldn’t.

 

“My boyfriend…” He heaves a heavy sigh, feels the weight of Chanyeol’s eyes on him, and let’s go, “I— he—he…was with someone else…and I walked in on them. They didn’t know I was there. Right before I came here. I was supposed to surprise him and he _clearly_ wasn’t expecting me considering he was balls deep in someone else.”

 

“What a fucking asshole,” and Chanyeol says it with so much vehemence that it startles Jongdae. Upon seeing the shocked look on the other’s face, he ploughs on.

 

“He is! You don’t deserve that. No one does. Please tell me you called him one to his face.”

 

Jongdae shakes his head, “I just left. He didn’t see me. I left before he could. I didn’t say anything. Does that make me a coward?”

 

“No! It was probably for the best. Things could have escalated and turned ugly really quickly,” Chanyeol reassures with a pat on Jongdae’s forearm.

 

“I love him,” Jongdae sighs heavily and not even the alcohol thrumming inn his veins can numb the stab of pain that comes with the bittersweet statement, “I love him so much.”

 

He can feel the weight of Chanyeol’s sympathetic gaze but he stares into the deep red in his glass.

 

“I was going to ask him to marry me.”

 

His words fall like a bomb into the already fragile atmosphere. He had only told Minseok, Han and Yixing of his plans, felt like telling too many people would jinx him in some way. Maybe telling too little people did. It’s pointless hiding it now anyways. There’s no way he’s going to go through with it now.

 

“I’m so sorry,” The weight of Chanyeol’s hand never really left his forearm but Jongdae only notices it’s still there when limp fingers suddenly squeeze around it. Jongdae offers him a wobbly but nonetheless grateful smile in response and when he holds his cup out, Chanyeol doesn't hesitate to fill it to the brim.

 

__

 

Jongdae regrets everything and nothing. The pounding in his head as well as the ache behind his eyes and the turning of his stomach serves as a reminder of the fact that he somehow drank three bottles of wine between Chanyeol and himself. After his fifth or so glass, everything was kind of a blur, the most vivid thing being the coolness of the toilet seat beneath his cheek after he emptied his guts into the bowl. Yixing and Baekhyun came to pick him up not long after, Chanyeol having asked if there was anyone who could take him home and must have made enough sense of Jongdae’s slurred _Xingxing-ge_ to call him from his phone. Thankfully Yixing’s contact is exactly that, plus a few hearts tacked on at the end.

 

Said _Xingxing-ge_ is currently serving his duty as a best friend and is reduced to being a pillow while Jongdae finally watches the drama he’s been itching to catch up on. Though he’s not doing much watching and more sniffling pathetically into Yixing’s chest, ruining yet another shirt, much more interested in staring at Junmyeon’s contact (my love <3), wondering if he should text him.

 

“You should stop driving yourself crazy,” Yixing says, Jongdae feeling more than hearing his voice through the vibrations of his chest. “If you can’t think of anything, just leave it be. It’ll come to you. I personally think you should just break up with him then block him and erase that piece of shit from your life but don’t let me influence your decision.”

 

Yixing’s advice is very sound and Jongdae agrees with it but agreeing and actually doing it is another thing entirely. He gives Yixing a noncommittal hum and Yixing drops the subject with a sigh, soothingly rubbing Jongdae’s arm. Closing the chat, Jongdae’s eyes fall onto a message he had received not too long ago.

 

>> _hey jongdae ^^ it’s chanyeol! I hope you don’t mind that I texted myself so I could have your number. Just wanted to check up on you to see how you’re doing. I hope you don’t have too much of a hangover, you drank a lot ㅋㅋㅋ try to drink lots of water._

_ >>you have my number now so don’t be afraid to text me or anything. I’d love to get to know you under better circumstances. Maybe we could be friends? _

_ >>anyways, I’ll let you be now. Chin up okay? He’s an idiot and you deserve better _

 

Jongdae isn’t sure how to respond to such kindness, not when it brings a whole new wave of tears to his eyes, so after reading it over a few times, he finally turns off his phone and let’s it slide between the couch cushions. It’s all too easy to go lax, especially now that Yixing’s slim fingers are carding through his hair. He welcomes sleep with open arms, hoping something better awaits him in his dreams.

 

__

 

_I know about her. We’re done << _

_Minseok is coming by to pick up my stuff on thursday after you get off work_ <<

 

_I hope she was worth it << _

  


—You won’t be able to receive calls or texts from xxx-xxx-xxx—

 

cancel                    **block**

 

**__**

 

 _hey chanyeol, sorry for the late reply, I just needed some time to myself_ **< <**

 _I don’t think I could thank you enough for the other day_ **< <**

_if it would be okay with you, I’d like to treat you to coffee << _

_I’d really like to be friends, if that offer is still on the table :)_ <<

 

>> _Jongdae! hi :)_

_ >>no worries about the late response. I completely understand _

_ >>I’d love to go for coffee!! I’m free tomorrow afternoon, you can pass by after my shift and we can walk to this really great place I know. It’s not too far _

_ >>I get off at 2pm, I’m doing the morning shift _

 

_sounds great! I’ll see you then << _

 

_ >>see you :) _

 

____

 

Coffee with Chanyeol is awkward to say the least. Jongdae can’t seem to get past his embarrassment, leading to stilted conversations and lingering silences and all he can seem to do is hide behind the rim of his mug. His chai latte is, true to Chanyeol’s word, quite delicious at the very least. The elephant in the room is so large, weighing down the atmosphere and no one seems quite brave enough to break it. Jongdae takes another sip, letting heat and spice wash over his tongue and wrestling with his tumultuous thoughts. His eyes fall on Chanyeol whose mouth keeps opening, clearly poised to say something before deciding otherwise with a shake of his head. Chanyeol made an effort to reach out to him, the least Jongdae can do is try to meet him halfway.

 

“I broke up with him,” Jongdae says suddenly, voice falling into the silence like a stone in a lake.

 

Chanyeol blinks in surprise, the other’s statements settling into his brain before a large grin stretches across his face.

 

“Good,” Chanyeol’s vehemence never fails to catch Jongdae off guard, “How did he react?”

 

“I have no idea, I just blocked him after I sent the text,” Jongdae snorts into his latte, cracking the second smile he’s had since that night (the first being when Baekhyun and Minseok had described the various ways they would castrate Junmyeon, one of them involving the stapler on his desk while Han and Yixing held him down and Baekhyun shoved a sock in his mouth so no one would hear him scream).

 

“Even better! Fuck him honestly,” Chanyeol crosses his arms in anger before he deflates and gazes upon Jongdae with an intensity that has the latter nearly squirming , “When I say you deserve better, I really mean it. I know we just met but the way you speak about him, I can tell you’re really in love with him and what he did was the shittiest thing possible.”

 

Jongdae drinks as an attempt to get rid of the lump in his throat, blinking away the sting in his eyes.

 

“Thank you,” He manages to get out, eyes examining the grain of the wooden table.

 

“I’m just being honest,” Chanyeol shrugs, “ I know I keep saying it but you deserve to be treated better and he deserves to lose his ability to procreate.”

 

The sheer familiarity of his words startle a loud laugh out of Jongdae, eyes curving into crescents. Chanyeol observes as the other shakes with laughter and can’t help but notice how much better he looks like this. He makes it his own personal goal to try and draw as much laughter out of him as possible.

 

He succeeds, the two covering any and every topic they could possibly think of now that the ice has been broken. They stay there, tucked into the corner of the quaint little coffee shop, knees brushing and conversation flowing and Jongdae forgets about the gaping hole in his chest for a little while.

 

__

 

“Chanyeol, what are you doing?” Kyungsoo asks him one day in July, leaning his hip against the wall. His tone is unusually serious and it causes Chanyeol to pause in the middle of tying his shoes, looking up at his best friend.

 

“What do you mean?” The tilt of Chanyeol’s head emphasizes his confusion.

 

“This...thing with Jongdae,” Kyungsoo elaborates, brows pinched with concern, “You do know that he’s getting over a hell of a breakup.”

 

“Yes, I’m quite aware.” Chanyeol isn’t sure exactly what Kyungsoo is getting at.

 

“I’m just...concerned. You’re always with him and when you talk about him you _light up_. I just don’t want you to get hurt,” Kyungsoo explains, expression softening into something vulnerable that makes Chanyeol get up and pull him into his arms. Kyungsoo hugs him back, squeezing his torso tightly and tucking his head into his neck.

 

“You don’t have to worry about me Soo. I’m a big boy, I can take care of myself,” Chanyeol reassures, speaking into Kyungsoo’s hair and he feels more than hears the shorter’s reluctant sigh.

 

When he finally leaves his house to meet up with Jongdae to watch the newest superhero movie, it’s with a skip in his step, pushing Kyungsoo’s words to the back of his mind. Jongdae’s waiting for him in front of the designated bus stop, looking absolutely deadly in a tank top that showcases nicely toned arms and blunt collarbones. The way Jongdae’s face absolutely _brightens_ when he sees Chanyeol sends said man’s gut swooping dangerously.

 

“Chanyeol!” Jongdae exclaims with so much enthusiasm that his eyes turn to crescents and he’s quick to give Chanyeol a hug as a greeting. He goes onto his tippy-toes to lean his head on Chanyeol’s shoulder and _oh_ , that shouldn’t make Chanyeol’s heart stutter but it clearly does.

 

This isn’t good.

 

__

  


It takes Chanyeol a month to realize that he’s fallen for Jongdae, for his never ending kindness, never failing to make sure Chanyeol ate on the nights he would stay up late composing. He would often join him, offering feedback and constructive criticism or even offering his own lyrics as he also has quite a way with words. Sometimes Jongdae would fall asleep, his head leaning on Chanyeol’s shoulder, who would carefully move him to his lap, unable to keep from carding his fingers through his soft black hair. Unable to keep a wistful sigh from falling from his lips as he appraises soft curled lips and impossibly long lashes.

 

It takes another month for him to tell Kyungsoo he was right. Kyungsoo doesn't gloat, only gives Chanyeol a sympathetic pat on his arm and offers to cook him his favourite Kimchi Jjigae (easy on the spice). It helps a little.

 

It takes three months into realizing he's in love with Jongdae and five months into knowing him for Chanyeol to confess.

 

“W—What?” Jongdae stutters out, dark eyes impossibly wide, complete utter shock altering his features. They’re in Chanyeol’s studio: an extra room in his apartment with soundproofing foam along the walls and too many instruments spread about, Jongdae curled into a chair and Chanyeol taking the couch.

 

“I’m…” Chanyeol falters. It was all too easy to blurt it out the first time around when Jongdae wiggled in excitement at the melody the former strummed out, looking impossibly pretty even in the yellow lighting that washed out his complexion, clad in Chanyeol’s hoodie that swallowed him up since the room ran colder than every other in the house. He was in _his_ hoodie, in _his_ house and Chanyeol wanted nothing more than for Jongdae to be _his_. Repeating his confession, what with Jongdae looking at him with an imploring gaze, is that much harder.

 

“I’m in love with you,” He tries again, voice weaker, resolve weaker but still holding Jongdae’s gaze firmly.

 

Jongdae swallows heavily, a sort of cold dread washing over him. Chanyeol watches as he wrestles heavily with the bomb he just dropped on him, abusing of his lower lip until it bleeds and his tongue comes to lick the red away.

 

“I’m sorry,” Jongdae says with so much regret his voice scrapes the walls of his throat, “You can’t— _I_ can’t. I’m—”

 

 _I’m broken_.

 

He’s gluing himself back together piece by piece but sometimes the glue dissolves in the nights where he chokes on his sobs, muffling them into a t-shirt Junmyeon forgot over that he hasn’t been able to throw, trying to keep quiet so he doesn’t wake Yixing. The glue dissolves in the times that he stares at his phone, finger hovering over the unblock button before he throws his phone across the room, hoping it shatters just like his heart does every so often.

 

He’s broken and he’s not ready for a relationship of any sort, not when he’s still swept away by the rattling aftershocks of his last. That fact _pains_ him to the point that his bottom lip trembles, blinking back tears. It pains him that he can’t return Chanyeol’s feelings. Chanyeol who has been nothing but kindness and support, helping him locate the glue when it’s buried under so many memories and moments that stack up until Jongdae can barely see straight, let alone find it.

 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Chanyeol reaching over to take Jongdae into his arms. He fits right into them like Chanyeol was made to accommodate Jongdae’s smaller form and the way he feels at home, despite the sadness that fills his chest, makes him think that maybe he was, “I wasn’t expecting anything in return. I just. I just needed to tell you.”

 

Jongdae’s nod is shallow against Chanyeol’s chest and his voice is hollow as he whispers another _I’m sorry_ that Chanyeol doesn’t quite catch. Chanyeol hurts but he understands more than he hurts and it’s enough.

 

__

  


Nothing changes between them, but Jongdae himself changes. He finds himself more aware, looking for the signs he somehow missed and now that he’s looking, they’re everywhere. Chanyeol showing up at his work with an iced americano in hand whenever Jongdae offhandedly mentions that he’s tired. Chanyeol recognizing when to change the subject or lend an ear whenever Jongdae gets too caught up in his negative thoughts. Chanyeol also recognizing what makes him break out into uncontrollable laughter and abusing of it until his sides are cramping and he’s gasping.

 

Jongdae catches the lingering glances, the way his eyes dart to his mouth and then back up in fear of getting caught, the hugs that last too long. Arms slung over shoulders. Eyes softening and so, so full of fondness and something else Jongdae doesn’t like to think about too much.

 

“Am I doing the right thing?” Jongdae asks suddenly, getting coffee at Minseok and his usual place. Han is tagging along, having finally found time in his busy schedule. The couple stop their conversation to regard him in confusion.

 

“With Chanyeol,” He elaborates. The chai latte he’s drinking brings him back to the first time they hung out together and brings how much things have changed since then to the forefront of his mind.

 

“What would you be doing wrong?” Han prompts, tilting his head, doe eyes blinking.

 

“I don’t know,” He sighs and rubs his palms on his jeans, “Leading him on?”

 

“Jongdae,” Minseok’s voice is soft around the edges as he shifts in his seat to give Jongdae his full attention. “He’s an adult, I’m sure he can rationalize that you’re not ready for this. Hell, the day he met you, you were a complete and utter mess, so I’m pretty sure he’s aware of the rough patch you’re going through. Sure, you offer to go out and be with him but he also accepts _and_ chooses to seek you out himself. I’m sure if it was too much he would put a little distance between you two.”

 

Minseok always knows what to say. Always knows how to talk Jongdae down from overthinking. He’s his person, his soulmate and Jongdae trusts his opinion more than anything else. The words settle his nerves and Han’s following sound of agreement also helps (though he doesn’t trust Han’s opinion nearly as much. Not since he convinced him to cut his hair into an ‘adorable’ haircut complete with atrocious 2cm bangs back in university. Needless to say, it took Jongdae weeks and an intense amount of groveling on Han’s part for him to talk to him again).

 

“You’re right,” Jongdae says after tossing the words around in his head.

 

“Always am,” Minseok raises his cup and takes a sip, expression smug enough for Jongdae to kick him under the table. He yelps and subsequently spills coffee onto his t-shirt. Han’s cackling, along with his signature ugly laughing face is always enough to lift the mood.

  
  


Jongdae goes grocery shopping afterwards. Both Yixing and he have the terrible habit of waiting until the last minute before restocking their food. They were forced to live off of cup ramen for the past few days before Jongdae had time in his schedule to make a trip to the store. He’s in the cereal aisle, picking up a box of his favourite and a box of Yixing’s when he spots an extremely familiar face that makes his blood run cold.

 

He’s so so stupid, going to the store closest to the cafe but equally as close to Junmyeon’s apartment. He should have considered running into him a possibility, especially since they have the same day off. He needs to leave. _Now_. In his panic, he drops his basket onto the floor, the clattering sound drawing the attention of anyone in the vicinity. He doesn’t need to look to know Junmyeon is now staring at him, the following gasp enough of a confirmation.

 

He can’t hightail it out of their quick enough, spinning on his heels and heading for the nearest exit.

 

“ _Jongdae?_ ”

 

The sound of his voice after so long causes pain to stab at his chest. He feels anger too, mostly towards himself because he realizes that he’s missed hearing it. His conflicting emotions cause him to only flee quicker, out the automatic door and onto the sidewalk.

 

“Jongdae, _wait_ ,” Junmyeon’s voice is much too close for comfort and Jongdae only realizes how close when he feels a hand grabbing his wrist, stopping him in his tracks.

 

“ _Let go of me_ ,” Jongdae pretty much hisses. He tears his hand out of his grip, practically teetering from the force he puts behind it. Junmyeon at least looks apologetic, as he should.

 

“I’m sorry,” He says, voice small but it is genuine. Jongdae sees it in the soft tilt in his brow, the same tilt he used to smooth out with his thumb. Now, it only brings about some weird sense of satisfaction.

 

“Sorry about what? Sorry about breaking my heart or just not getting the memo that I don’t want to see you, in case me running from you wasn’t enough of a clue?” Jongdae scoffs, anger filling him to the point that his voice has taken on a cold, harsh edge. He crosses his arms defensively.

 

“Both,” Junmyeon answers and trails off, a heavy silence stretching between them.

 

Seven months.

 

Seven months have passed since they last saw each other. Junmyeon had tried getting in contact with him, surely calling him and messaging him only to realize he was blocked. Then he tried Minseok’s number, Yixing’s, Han’s, Baekhyun’s, his older brother, his _parents_ , all of them following suit and offering Junmyeon no response. Why he bothered to try so hard is something Jongdae doesn’t understand. He threw away their relationship the moment he started whatever it is he was doing with that woman. The fact that he cheated just proved that Jongdae was dispensable to him. So why bother trying to get into contact with someone he clearly didn’t care enough for to not utterly destroy their trust.

 

“Why?” The question falls from Jongdae’s mouth before he could stop it but he doesn’t take it back.

 

“Why?” Junmyeon laughs humorlessly, “I felt trapped. I could see our future planned out so clearly in my head. Us moving in together. Us...getting married. I got scared. I got scared and I needed something else. Something different. Minji…” Jongdae flinches, finally being able to put a name to the woman who has been haunting him. The woman who tore out every single insecurity he had and displayed it on a fancy PowerPoint entitled ‘ _the many reasons as to why you’re not enough’_.

 

“She had been flirting with me for awhile and it was so easy, _too_ easy to let myself give in to the distraction,” Junmyeon explains and finally getting an explanation lifts a weight off of Jongdae’s shoulders while simultaneously crushing his heart. He doesn’t have to wonder _why_ anymore. Doesn’t have to toss and turn at night, wrestling with the endless possibilities.

 

“Why didn’t you just break up with me if the idea of being stuck with me scared you so much?” Jongdae’s proud of himself for keeping the tears at bay but he can’t keep the emotion from causing a tremor to colour his voice.

 

“Because I loved you. I couldn’t imagine a life without you by my side.”

 

The answer falls into the pit of his stomach like a brick. Jongdae chokes on his response.

 

“Well, now you don’t need to imagine one,” Bitterness coats his every word, “Do me a favour. The next time we see each other, act like I was never in your life to begin with. You at least owe me that much.”

 

Jongdae leaves, not waiting for an answer, and this time Junmyeon lets him.

 

__

 

Jongdae watches Junmyeon’s t-shirt burn in the bathtub, set aflame by a lighter after he soaked it in the rubbing alcohol they stored in the bathroom cabinet. He watches as the pristine white turns black under the consuming force that is the flame. Then he watches the ashes go down the drain, washed away by the shower head.

 

Watches as pieces of his feelings follow.

 

__

 

Jongdae isn’t exactly sure when he falls for Chanyeol. Maybe he’d liked him all along but was filled to the brim with such negative emotions that eclipsed his life like an oppressing blanket of darkness, not allowing the pretty hues of pink, orange and yellow to shine through. Maybe he fell for him after he confessed, seeing their relationship in a different light.

 

He isn’t sure when but he does know _why_. Is reminded why whenever he sees him, the literal sun that peeks through the clouds on a gloomy day and catches you off guard.

 

He feels Chanyeol shine on him even now, the two of them sitting in the back of Chanyeol’s pick up truck. They’re wrapped in a large blanket, a protective layer from the cool night air. The field they’re in offers little protection from the wind and it’s all the more reason to huddle close. The stars are bright tonight, no clouds in sight and that’s exactly why Chanyeol had picked tonight to introduce Jongdae to the wonders of star gazing. Apparently it’s absolutely blasphemous that he’s never been before and _no, looking at them from your balcony doesn’t count._

 

The sound of crickets serves as ambiance as well as the occasional rustle of wind through the nearby tree branches. Save for those, all is silent. Just Jongdae, Chanyeol and the stars. The two have gone from using Chanyeol’s trusty telescope to simply looking at them with their much less powerful eyes. They’re just as impressive and now Jongdae can see the entirety of the sky, how far the stars stretch, how the cluster in some places or scatter in others.

 

He feels at peace, Jongdae realizes. For the first time in a long time, he feels serene, allowing himself to take in the sheer beauty of the moment, how thankful he is to have such amazing company. He turns to Chanyeol to tell him so but the words die on his tongue because he’s already looking at him with so much intensity. Chanyeol’s gaze is all consuming, eyes dark, as if Jongdae himself had placed all the stars in the sky yet outshone them all _plus_ the sun and the moon put together.

 

Jongdae doesn’t think he could conjure up any words, not with his throat being clogged by his swelling heart so he shows his gratitude in the only other way he knows how: by leaning over and pressing his lips against Chanyeol’s. Chanyeol’s first instinct is to freeze because _holy shit is Jongdae actually fucking kissing him?_ It has to be a dream. It has to be because Chanyeol has imagined this moment for months, thought of those soft kitten lips, holding his jaw in his hand.

 

Only it isn’t and the insistent pressure has him kissing back, giving back twofold, cupping Jongdae’s face. The racing of his pulse does nothing to mask the pleased sound that comes out from the back of Jongdae’s throat and he wants to hear more, wants to hear everything because _finally_ , _finally_ , he gets to act on the urges he struggles to contain.

 

When they part, they’re left breathless, gazing at each other in wonder and awe. The space between them is practically non existent.

 

“I love you,” Jongdae says without any hesitation because it’s the truth. A fact. He loves him despite the small voice in the back of his head telling him that trusting someone else with his heart is a bad idea. But another voice, a much louder one, screams at him that this is home. That Chanyeol is safe, that he’s the present, the past but he’s also the future.

 

Jongdae tastes that future when Chanyeol surges forward to slot their mouths together, licking into it and sighing as Jongdae whimpers. He tastes it in the way he cups the back of his head, tilting so to deepen the kiss, fingers firm in Jongdae’s hair and mouth slick under his tongue. He tastes it in the _I love you_ , a breath and then he’s tracing the peculiar curve of his teeth, _so much_.

 

He hears it in Chanyeol’s groans when Jongdae cards his fingers through his hair and tugs. Smells it in his usual spicy cologne as well as the undertones of pure _Chanyeol_. Feels it in the way Chanyeol’s large hands wrap around his thighs, pulling Jongdae into his lap. Like this, Jongdae feels secure, safe, as he’s tugged closer until he is flush with Chanyeol, flush with the warmness that has chased away his demons and helped him find the strength to do some chasing himself.

 

Like this, _he’s home_.

 

And the thing is, with spilled ink, is while it still bleeds through, staining many pages in an impossible black, you'll eventually find a stark clean one.

 

If not, you simply start another book.

  
  
  
  



End file.
